"SHE IS MY WIFE!" Derek yelled at Mark, who had been cowering in the hallway. "You were supposed to be my friend, my brother. What the hell were you thinking? Where was common sense? What happened to 'never compete over a woman'? What happened to 'be the better man and let someone else win the girl? What the hell is wrong with you?"

I stood in the middle of the kitchen of the brownstone I'd shared with my husband for the last decade, unable to believe what had just happened. Did I actually have sex with my husband's best friend? My marriage was already on the rocks, and I just pushed my husband over the edge. I sucked in my breath as I heard Derek thundering down the stairs on Mark's heels.

"Derek," I began.

"I don't want to hear it, Addison," he shouted as he shoved Mark, half-naked, outside and into the pouring rain.

"Derek!"

"No, Addie! Since you love Mark so much why don't you sleep at his place tonight!" Derek yelled, the vein in his forehead enormous and purple, as he shoved me outside as well.

I turned to see him close the door in my face and began to cry when I heard the lock click into place. Banging on the door, I begged Derek to let me in. A few minutes later, the door cracked open, and I was greeted by an assortment of Chanel, Prada, Armani, Dior, and various other designers. I put my hand into the door just as Derek slammed it shut.

"Owww!" I pulled my hand away to find the door being slammed yet again.

"So, do you want to stay at my place tonight?"

"Mark! You're an ass!"

"I guess that's a 'no'?"

"Leave, Mark."

Just as Mark retreated down the driveway, the front door opened a second time. Expecting my Blahniks to soar through the air and toward my head, I ducked under a bush. Instead, Derek pulled me to my feet and dragged me back into the house.

"Derek, I'm so,"

"No. I still don't want to hear it. You stay here tonight. I don't think I can be in this house knowing that…without…I can't stay here, so you stay."

"Derek, can't we please talk about this. Something like that…it's never happened before."

"You really expect me to believe that? Seriously? You want me to believe that I walk into my own home, find my wife in bed with my best friend, on my favorite sheets, and it never happened before this day?" The vein in his forehead was growing larger by the second.

"Yeah. It's the truth, Derek. We never…" I trailed off.

"Whatever," he muttered as he stomped up the stairs.

I stood in a bedroom that now felt tainted to me. Mark's scent was still in the air, and the usually perfect sheets were thrown halfway off the bed. I looked around, unsure of what to do with myself, and pulled out my cell phone.

"Richard, I need a favor," I said when the chief of surgery at Seattle Grace answered his phone.

"Derek, it's so good to hear from you! How are you? How is Addison?"

"I need a favor. Can you help me out?"

"Sure. What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"I need to get away from New York for a little while. Do you think you'd have room for another surgeon on your staff?"

"For a superb neurosurgeon such as yourself, of course."

"I'll be in Seattle by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow."

"What's going on? Are you and Addie moving out here?"

"No, I'm coming alone."

"Are you okay?"

"Listen, I'd rather not talk about it now. How about I fill you in when I get to Seattle Grace?"

"Sure. I have an appy scheduled for seven in the morning, but I should be finished with that and post-ops around eleven or so."

"That's great! Thanks, Chief. I'll see you about 11:30 then."

"I'll be in my office. Ask Patricia to show you where it is."

"Yes, sir."

I snapped the cell phone together and pulled out a suitcase. Packing everything I could into the expensive boxcar on wheels Addison had forced me to buy, I decided to leave Addison a note telling her where I was going. I didn't have the energy to listen to her apologize anymore, nor did I want to look at her. The very sight of the woman who was once my best friend made me feel as though someone had ripped out my small intestine and tied it around my neck. Being in our bedroom made me feel nauseated. I slipped out of the house, leaving Addison a note in place of my favorite coffee cup that usually sat next to hers.